Is the only time you get free time to read is in the bathroom. This is for moms that need a break and recommendation on good books and also free reads ( cause lets face it if you are a mom that has to sneak to read, free is about all you can afford.) 18+++

Until You: A Fall Away Novel, Book #1.5 by Penelope Douglas with GIVEAWAY

**This novel contains graphic sexual content and harsh language. It is only appropriate for adult readers age 18+.

Have you ever been so angry that hitting things felt good? Or so numb that you actually felt high? The past few years have been like that for me. Traveling between fury and indifference with no stops in between.Some people hate me for it, while others are scared of me. But none of them can hurt me, because I don't care about anything or anyone.Except Tatum.I love her so much that I hate her. We used to be friends, but I found out that I couldn't trust her or anyone else.So I hurt her. I pushed her away.But I still need her. The sight of her centers me, and I can pool all of my anger into her. Engaging her, challenging her, bullying her...they are my food, my air, and the last part of me that feels anything human.But she left. She went to France for a year, and came back a different girl.Now, when I push, she pushes back.

“Jared, I’m a bad mother.” She swallowed hard, obviously trying to hold back more tears.

I looked off to the side, unable to meet her eyes. “I made it through, Mom.”

“You did… somewhat. I’m proud of you. You’re strong, and you’re not a follower. I know I’ll send you into the world a survivor.” Her light voice turned firm and serious. “I wouldn’t want any other son. But, Jared, you’re not happy.”

The air around me got tight, pushing me from all sides, and I didn’t know where to turn to get out. “Who’s happy? Are you?” I barked.

“Jared, I was seventeen when I got pregnant with you.” She folded her arms and hugged herself, more like hiding from something than warming herself. “I’m only thirty-six now. People I graduated with—some of them—are just starting their families. I was so young. I had no support. I didn’t get a chance to live before I had my world turned upside down—,”

“Yeah, I get it, alright,” I cut her off. “I’ll be out of your hair by June.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She moved closer, her voice raspy and holding out her hand as if to stop my thoughts. “You were the gift, Jared. The light. Your father was the hell. I thought I loved him. He was strong, confident, and cocky. I idolized him…” She trailed off, and I swear I could hear her heart breaking as her eyes fell to the ground.

I didn’t want to hear about that asshole, but I knew she needed to talk. And for some reason I wanted to let her.

“I idolized him for about a month,” she continued. “Long enough to get pregnant and get stuck with him.” And then she looked at me again. “But I was young and immature. I thought I knew everything. Drinking was my escape, and I abandoned you. You never deserved that. When I saw Tate trying to make you happy that night, I let her. The next morning you weren’t in your room. When I looked out your window, I could see you both passed out in her bed, just sleeping. So I let it be. For years, I knew you were sneaking over there to sleep, and I let it go, because she made you happy when I failed.”

The purest, truest, most perfect thing in my world, and I’d dumped pile upon pile of shit on top of her for years.

A knot of realization worked its way into my head, and I felt like punching my fist through a fucking wall.

“Jesus Christ.” I combed my hands through my hair, my eyes squeezing shut as I whispered to myself. “I’ve been so horrible to her.”

My mother, like Mr. Brandt, probably knew nothing of what I’d put Tate through, but she did know that we weren’t friends anymore.

“Honey,” she spoke up, “you’ve been horrible to everyone. Some of us deserved it, some of us not. But Tate loves you. She’s your best friend. She’ll forgive you.”

Will she?

“I love her.” It was the most honest thing I’d confided in my mother in a long time.

My father could kiss his own ass, and my mother and I would survive, for better or worse. But Tate?

I needed her.

“I know you love her. And I love you,” she said as she reached out and touched my cheek. “You’re not letting your father or me take anything else from you, do you understand?”

Tears burned my eyes, and I couldn’t hold them back.

“How do I know I’m not going to be like him?” I whispered.

My mother was quiet as she studied me, and then her eyes narrowed.

“Tell her the truth,” she instructed. "Trust her with everything, especially your heart. Do that, and you’re already not like your father.”

Penelope Douglas is a writer and teacher in Las Vegas. Born in Dubuque, Iowa, she is the oldest of five children. Penelope attended the University of Northern Iowa, earning a Bachelor's degree in Public Administration, because her father told her to "just get the degree!" She then earned a Masters of Science in Education at Loyola University in New Orleans, because she hated Public Administration. One night, she got tipsy and told the bouncer at the bar where she worked that his son was hot, and three years later they were married. To the son, not the bouncer. They have spawn, but just one. A daughter named Aydan. Penelope loves sweets, the show Sons of Anarchy, and she shops at Target almost daily.